


Brownies and Bake Sales

by TheLizardWriter



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Drake is a vicious animal, M/M, PTA Meeting, Poor Launchpad just wants to be friends with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLizardWriter/pseuds/TheLizardWriter
Summary: Drake Mallard takes the Parent-Teachers Associations meetings at Goslayn's school veeery seriously - after all, how else is she to get a good education?





	Brownies and Bake Sales

“That’s a hard no from us. I mean, who buys  _ magazines _ anymore, Stacy,” Drake grabbed onto Launchpad’s elbow when he saw his husband scooting away. He couldn’t have him running out of the meeting like he had the previous week.

“Well, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, I personally find them very enjoyable.” Stacy, the mother of that obnoxious boy in Gosalyn’s class… What was his name again? Jay? Joey? Jake? “And for your information, last time we hosted this fundraiser, Zach sold more than everyone else in the class combined.” Ah, yes, Zach. Drake made sure to erase any memory of the little terror’s name from his brain. Not worth the space.

“Well, if we sold something that was less, well, I’m just going to be blunt with you, if we sold something that wasn’t so dumb, maybe the kids wouldn’t still be sitting in broken desks,Stacy” Drake looked up at his husband, who seemed to have found a very interesting stain on his shirt, which was taking up all of his attention. Drake needed to make sure to take it to the dry cleaner’s before next meeting - the other moms were like hawks! They’d notice in a heartbeat! A swift elbow to Launchpad’s side brought him back to the conversation, “Isn’t that right, Sweetie?”

“Uhhh yeah! I vote we do something like whatever Drake said,” Launchpad threw his hand in the air, much to Drake’s mortification. He fought the urge to snap at Launchpad that this was  _ not _ at all how they’d practiced, and ohhh boy had they practiced. These meetings were like a war - they were more dangerous than any night out on patrol. He’d had to train Launchpad on what to say, how to say it, when to say it, and most importantly of all - what was okay to eat.

“This isn’t a place for harsh words, Drake,” one of the other moms, Karen, spoke up, instantly dragging an eye roll from Drake. What? He couldn’t help it - they deserved to hear a harsh dose of reality every once in a while. Every once in a while being once a week.

“Well, I’m just saying that we need to be selling something that people are buying. Door to door magazine salesman is a job for a forty-year-old creep. Cookies, popcorn, candy bars, come on people, we have to get our heads in the game!” Drake glanced around the room at the various people in front of him. He and Launchpad were the only dads in the room. The spartanly decorated room, furnished only by one long table and a bunch of miscellaneous slightly broken chairs that were no longer suited for classroom usage, was filled with a variety of mothers - none of whom were fans of Drake Mallard-McQuack.

For whatever reason, they  _ loved  _ Launchpad. They were always asking  _ him _ if Gosalyn wanted to come over for a playdate if he wanted to organize a carpool with them, if he had anything to add to their newsletter. Blasphemy! Launchpad didn’t even want to be a part of the PTA! 

Drake looked around the room, which was full of faces just staring back at him after his outburst. There was Stacy, the idiot chicken who thought that magazine sales were a good way to get his daughter a good education. The talentless parrot who always tried to claim her very obviously store-bought cookies were homemade was Linda. One of the more annoying members of the group was Lisa, who never missed a chance to boast about how her kids were the best. She also had the nerve to say that she made the best casseroles. Joke was on her, because both her kids and her casserole were garbage! Lastly, there was Binkie Muddlefoot… Drake was acutely aware of just how annoyingly nice that Binkie Muddlefoot could be, though she did make some divine pastries.

“Now now, Drake, that wasn’t very nice!” Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive, or, rather, think of Binkie Muddlefoot, and she’ll start babbling. Drake laid back in his seat, propping his feet up on the flimsy table that lay in front of them.

“Being nice isn’t going to get us a bigger budget,” Drake kept his voice smooth, yanking Launchpad’s seat back to its original position when he realized that his husband had been scooting away again. Why was that how every meeting ended up going?

“We should do a bake sale then,” Linda had the nerve to suggest. How dare she suggest an event she’d obviously not be able to contribute to… 

“Yeah, right, Linda, like people would pay for the cookies you already paid for,” Drake yanked Launchpad’s chair back to him again. What did that man not understand about the absolute, severe necessity of Drake’s attitude? If he didn’t stand up to the moms, the whole school would be bankrupt!

“As if you can do better,” Lisa finally spoke up, “Now just the other day Gosalyn was telling a story about you burning her birthday cake.  _ I  _ on the other hand, could supply some perfect eateries to this hypothetical bake sale.”

“Launchpad bakes better,” Drake practically shouted, pointing vigorously at his husband, who had scooted ever so slightly away again.

“I’m---” Drake wasted not a second in clapping a hand over his husband’s mouth. When Launchpad started getting nervous, he started introducing himself to people who already knew him.

“So we’re having a bake sale? Oh goody!” Binkie Muddlefoot’s voice created a sensation in Drake that just made him want to break something. He gritted his teeth, resisted the urge to snap at the lady that he had to see every single gosh darned day…

“We are  _ not _ having a bake sale!” Drake snapped at his neighbor. “A bake sale requires people showing up. We are the ONLY people who show up to this school!” Drake had to lean to the side as far as he could to yank Launchpad’s chair back this time - he very nearly made it to the door, where he’d no doubt make his escape.

“Well then what do you suggest,” Stacy chimed back in, not even looking up from the polish she was chipping off her nails, “Because I still say we should do magazines. Zach  _ is _ a master salesman, after all.” 

“Well, he only won because he cheated,” Lisa mumbled under her breath, “Otherwise, Lindsay would have beat him by a landslide.”

“We didn’t cheat, we just strategically hit your neighborhood first,” Stacy snipped back, flicking a fragment of nail polish deliberately in Lisa’s direction.

“You’re a cheater and a fraud, and you know it,” Lisa was very nearly at her breaking point - a point Drake did  _ not _ need to see again.

“ENOUGH!” He yelled, drawing all eyes back to where they should be - on him. “Why don’t we just do the chocolate bar boxes? Launchpad buys at least an entire box every time they come to our door. No matter  _ how _ many times I tell him we have enough.”

“Aww, and Tank always buys so so many of Honker’s chocolates from him when we do that one! I vote chocolates! Very sweet for our sweet little--” Binkie stopped, eyes wide open as Drake began speaking directly over her.

“Yea, yea, you agree, thanks Binkie, moving on, chocolates it is?” He stage whispered, “This is the part where you raise your hand, LP,” but when he looked to his left, he realized that he’d severely slacked in his duty of wrangling his husband - he was gone. Drake sighed and said, “Vote. Now.”

Stacy crossed her arms and harrumphed at Drake, muttering something about magazines being better for the mind than chocolate bars. Everyone else, surprisingly, raised their hands, albeit slightly reluctantly. 

“Wonderful. As  _ treasurer _ ,” Drake always made sure to put some emphasis on his illustrious title, “I’ll get to ordering those tonight. Remember to send out the newsletter this time,  _ Linda _ . We can’t have another mishap like last time.” Drake also never missed a chance to point out that, honestly, Linda was a terrible secretary.

The worst of them all though, was yet again, Stacy, who immediately piped up, “Well, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, as residing president of this Parent-Teachers Association, I do believe  _ I  _ should be giving the orders. I have half a mind to  _ order _ you to get magazine brochures instead!” 

“Yeah, well you only have half a mind to begin with,” Drake retorted, deliberately writing on his notepad  _ Remember to order chocolate boxes _ as large as he could manage.

“Kind words breed kind thoughts,” Binkie said, all of the sudden sitting in Launchpad’s vacated seat, pulling up directly to where Drake had been trying to keep his husband. “And I think we all need to speak a few more kind words. Don’t you ladies? And Drake. I don’t mean to discriminate, dear.”

“It won’t be my fault when I snap,” Drake nearly went through his whole typical reaction of clasping a hand over his mouth and trying to shove the words back in, inevitably failing, but the hell to it. They deserved to hear how much he despised every single second he spent in their presence.

“On to the last order of business then,” Stacy said, staring directly at Drake as she added on, “Which  _ I _ am in charge of as  _ president _ .”

“Oh, whatever shall I do, I’m being looked at meanly,” Drake’s voice was laden with sarcasm. He waved his hands in front of his face as if he were trying to fend off a swarm of gnats. Drake might be a parent, but he never claimed to be a real adult.

“I’m living in a world of idiots,” Drake heard muttered from across the room, snapping his attention in the direction of Lisa, who, he had to be honest, had no right to be saying anything about anyone else’s intelligence.

“Move on already,” Drake groaned. He had to be a part of this organization, because he had to be a part of Gosalyn’s school. How else would he ensure his pumpkin got the best education she could? He didn’t want to waste a single second longer with these casserole addicts when he could be spending it with his husband and daughter!

“Stop bitching, already,” Linda snapped right back at him. “Go on darling,” she patted Stacy’s arm gently and shot her that sickly sweet smile she was so good at.

“Last order of business,” Stacy over-pronounced her words as per usual, speaking with the volume that one would use for a full auditorium, “We need to decide whether Launchpad’s brownie recipe gets added to the newsletter or whether Linda’s blondie recipe gets added.” Stacy gave her henchman Linda a little smile before opening her arms to the group and saying, “No discussion! A simple vote is all.” She jabbed her finger in Drake’s direction as if he were some problematic force in this room.

“Launchpad at least makes---”

“NO Discussion, Mr. Mallard-McQuack!” Stacy shouted over him, deafening the room with her annoyingly high pitched voice. “All for Linda’s recipe?” She raised her hand in the air, holding it in solidarity with Linda, the only other one to vote for her own recipe. Stacy still made a huge show of adding two tally marks by Linda’s name. “And those for Launchpad,” her words were spoken with a roll of her eyes that made Drake just want to jump across the table and--- He took a deep breath.  _ Be civil, Drake _ , he told himself and took another deep breath.

Of course the second Launchpad’s name was out of her mouth, his hand shot up in the air, along with the hands of Binkie and Lisa. Lisa made it very clear to Drake that this was not a favor to him. “Launchpad is a friend. You’re the enemy,” she whispered in Drake’s direction, sending a slight shiver down his spine. A war room - just like he’d told Launchpad during their practice sessions. 

“Very well. We’ll add Launchpad’s recipe. You all are dismissed, I’ll see you again next week, darlings,” Stacy said, jotting a few more things down as the rest of the group filed out the door. Drake walked as fast as he could, trying to outwalk Binkie. She just had such a height advantage on him though…

“And then I watered the flowers again, because I figured the poor dears must be parched with this heat wave! And then…” Drake was practically running to avoid the onslaught of superfluous information that was constantly pouring out of Binkie’s mouth. When they finally made it to Drake and Launchpad’s car, Drake dove in without a word to his neighbor.

“Ugh, they always get so unnecessarily heated at those things, am I right?” Drake said to Launchpad, with a smile on his face.

Launchpad just stared back at him, which Drake took as an affirmation that yes, everyone but himself was an absolute whacko at those meetings. Drake Mallard-McQuack, however, was a star at being a PTA mom, and he wasn’t ashamed of it one little bit.


End file.
